


stupid flowers

by needacuddle



Series: learning to live without you [1]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Emotional Hurt, Gen, Loss of Parent(s), M/M, Parent Death, parent!phan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:27:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24789232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/needacuddle/pseuds/needacuddle
Summary: in which phil and winnie must learn a new life without dan.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Series: learning to live without you [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1792963
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	stupid flowers

Phil hated flowers.

He hated how they piled up in his home that didn’t feel like a home anymore. He hated the scent of flowers and he hated receiving them like it could heal his broken heart. No amount of flowers would bring back Dan, so what was the point?

Of course, everyone still brought flowers to him. He knew they didn’t know that he hated them and he knew they were only trying to help. That was all they could do, Phil knew that.

Winnie seemed to hate flowers too. That broke his heart even more, as if there was any of it left to break after Dan died. It hurt him so much seeing his five year old — the same five year old who _loved flowers_ — walk past the flowers and almost gag at the sight of them. The same five year old who loved to pick flowers, and the same five year old who loved to make little flower crowns out of them. That same five year old _hated flowers_.

“Stupid flowers,” Winnie mumbled as she made her way to the couch where her father was sat. He didn’t even care that his small child said _stupid_. Nothing as small as that mattered anymore. Nothing mattered, compared to seeing his five year old with her tiny little hands touching the coffin that held her father. Nothing mattered, compared to having his five year old hide her face in his shoulder because it hurt too much to watch her father get buried six feet underground.

“Hey, bub,” Phil opened his arms for her. “You okay?”

“I guess, Papa.”

He knew that was a stupid question. He knew she wasn’t okay. He knew their standard of ‘okay’ would be far different now. She might’ve been okay, but it wasn’t the same okay that it would’ve been if Dan were still alive. He knew that.

Winnie climbed into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’m really tired.”

“I know.”

Phil couldn’t even imagine how difficult this was for her. She was so little, too little to properly understand the concept of death. How was it fair that his five year old suddenly had to grasp the fact that her father was _dead_ , and he was never coming back? How was it fair that his child could no longer sleep because she was terrified of having to live without her dad? Her dad that always comforted her after she woke up with a nightmare, was no longer here and he couldn’t save her from this nightmare. Phil felt awful for her, he knew how much she loved Dan and it was perhaps even more than he did.

He missed Dan. He didn’t know how he could do this on his own. He had to be strong for Winnie, but he knew that was going to be fucking impossible. How could he be strong for her when he was on the verge of breaking down?

Winnie saw how much her father missed Dan. She knew he was broken, and she wanted to be strong for him, but that seemed impossible. She missed him too. How could she be strong for him when all she wanted to do was cry?

-

She woke up, still in Phil’s arms. She could feel him stroking her hair. Her light brown curls that were soft at the touch.

Her curls that were reminiscent of Dan’s. She wasn’t biologically theirs, and yet her features still resembled those of her dads. Maybe they chose her, _adopted_ her, because she reminded them of themselves, and it would be like she was biologically theirs. Maybe Phil saw those curls and knew she was the one for them, because he loved Dan’s curls and a child with curls would be just as beautiful. Maybe Dan saw her eyes, those blue eyes that were as bright as Phil’s. He loved to look into Phil’s eyes, not even talking, just to admire them — to admire _him_ . Dan had imagined just staring in awe at this child’s blue eyes whenever he’d hold her, and maybe it was there that Dan knew he loved Winnie, he wanted to adopt _her_. Like something about her eyes just sparked that connection between them.

That connection. It’s the most precious thing ever, especially to Phil. He saw how much Dan and Winnie adored and loved each other — from the day they adopted her to the day he died. He watched how Winnie climbed into the hospital bed with him and cried into her father’s practically lifeless body, telling him how much she loved him. Telling him not to leave. It broke Phil’s heart (again, if there was any of it left to break).

Phil felt so numb these days. He’d cried all his tears, there was nothing left. Yet, a part of him was still sad and wanted to just cry. He was sad for his five year old, who in Dan’s eyes only grew up a little bit. He will never see her become a teenager. He will never see her turn six.

“Papa, are you playing with my hair?” Winnie asked, her voice so soft and gentle.

“Yeah,” he said, matching her tone of voice. “M’sorry, bub. It just reminds me of Daddy’s.”

“Why?”

“I used to love playing with his curls, they were so pretty.”

“Oh,” she sighed. “Are mine pretty?”

“Of course, Winnie,” Phil smiled. “Your curls are beautiful.”

Winnie grabs a strand of her hair, looking at one of her curls. She smiled, admiring her pretty curls after Phil told her how beautiful they were. He hugged her tighter and watched as she played with her hair.

For the first time in days, or weeks (it was hard to keep track of time after _that day_ ), it felt like they were truly okay. They smiled again, and it felt genuine.

And then everything came crashing down — _again_.

Winnie caught sight of the flowers. She saw those _stupid flowers_ and her smiled faded. Like she remembered that he was dead, he was never coming back.

“I don’t want my curls, Papa!” She cried, pulling away from his arms. “I want Daddy!”

Phil felt his heart rip out of his chest as he watched his five year old run away from him. He watched as she cried and knocked over one of the flowers, screaming “stupid flowers” over and over.

“I don’t want my curls, I want Daddy’s curls back and I want Daddy to come back!”

“Winnie,” was all Phil managed to say. His voice was weak, he couldn’t yell at her and he couldn’t calm her down or comfort her.

“I don’t want flowers, Papa. I want Daddy, flowers are _stupid_ but Daddy is nice and amazing and funny. Why do we have flowers when Daddy is better?”

“I’m sorry, bub. I know you loved him, and you miss him so much.”

Winnie slowly moved closer to Phil again, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his shoulder as she cried. He rubbed circles on his back, unsure of what to say to make her feel better.

That was all he could do right now — hold her tightly and be there for her.

Maybe it worked, because just a few minutes later, the crying stopped. He still held her, still rubbed those circles on her back. She had positioned herself so that her head was resting on her father’s chest now.

Winnie looked up at him, a pout formed on her lips. “I’m sorry I broke one of the flowers.”

Her voice was so small, so weak and fragile. She felt so bad for acting out, even though she hated those stupid flowers so much.

Phil didn’t care. He knew she was perhaps just trying to take control of the situation, because everything that happened seemed so out of their control. He knew she was just upset, and seeing those flowers people got out of sympathy for her dead father just triggered something. She knew the flowers replaced her father, and she hated that. Phil didn’t care that the flowers were on the floor, a mess of dirt scattered around it. All he cared about anymore was that Winnie was okay, or as okay as she could be.

In the end, that was all that mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry if you cried ;___;
> 
> tumblr: needa-cuddle


End file.
